Chapter One
Freewild Cove, North Carolina
Today was not a good day.
Yesterday had not been good, nor the day before, nor the year before.
Heather Harrison’s eyes had opened to a world that felt dark. People sometimes talked about having a moment when everything felt normal in the seconds between sleep and wake. She never had that. The truth was always with her. Even when she wasn’t thinking about it, she felt the weight of it on her heart. It lingered in her dreams and was never more pronounced than when she was alone in her house, so she avoided going home.
Keeping busy helped.
Keeping busy was easier said than done.
“I still love you.” Ben struggled with his words, and Heather struggled to look at him.
She didn’t want to be here.
She didn’t want to be anywhere.
The sound of silverware clinked against ceramic plates and punctuated the murmured conversation from other tables in the diner. Freewild Cove was a small town, and she felt like everyone watched their booth for the next chapter of the Harrison family story.
Heather held the coffee cup between her hands, barely feeling the heat against her fingers as she stared into the depths. Ben had insisted on ordering food, but the plates sat untouched next to them.
“Heather, I still love you, but…”
Her eyes lifted from the dark liquid. Ben looked as exhausted as she felt. Whenever she saw his face, she was reminded of all they had lost. At first, his eyes had been bloodshot all the time from crying, but the red faded until all that was left was the hollow echo of the man he’d been. There was no bringing that piece of his soul back.
She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. The warmth of human contact felt strange. His thumb slipped over her fingers to hold her hand in his.
“I still love you, but…” he whispered.
“I know.” Heather pulled away. A lack of love had never been their problem. In fact, the opposite could be argued.
Ben reached beside him on the booth to lift a folder toward her. When she took it, he offered a pen from his front pocket. For them, there was no other choice. She opened the folder and signed her name beside the indicator tab, not bothering to read the papers. With that flow of ink, her marriage was over.
No, that wasn’t true. Their marriage had ended over a year ago, on the day they lost their son. This was merely a formality.
“I still love you…” he tried to finish the thought, but the words kept sticking in his throat.
“But every time you look at me you see him,” she answered, sliding out of the booth. “I know.”
Ben nodded. She knew everything he wanted to say. They were the same words circling through her mind. Their eyes met in silence as she stood.
I’m sorry.
I miss him.
It’s too painful to be here.
I will always love you.
I can’t look at you.
Goodbye.
Heather nodded once, leaving the papers on the table for him to mail to the lawyers. Neither of them cared how fast the paperwork was processed, only that their part in the dealings were finished. As far as they were concerned, they were over. Together they were drowning. Maybe apart they could catch a breath.
Maybe.
Probably not.
“Oh, hey, Heather, hi.” Leslie Pearson rented one of their properties. No, wait, one of her properties. She was no longer married.
Heather nodded once and tried to slip past the woman.
“I’ve been meaning to call you,” Leslie continued, blocking her from leaving. “There’s something up with the heater. It’s making a clunk-clunk-clang-clunk type noise and—”
“Okay.” Heather reached into her back pocket, pulled out a small notebook, and then grabbed a pen off the hostess stand. She jotted down the complaint. “I can be by tomorrow at around ten in the morning to look at it.”
“Oh, great, thanks, perfect,” Leslie said. “Well, wait, what time? I mean, I might have an appointment tomorrow—”
The bells over the door rang, and the diner door bumped Leslie in the shoulder as it opened.
“Sorry, excuse me.” Vivien Stone had been Heather’s best friend since middle school. She was everything Heather was not—bold and unflinching. She didn’t wait for Leslie to answer before tugging at Heather’s arm. “We’re going to be late. Come on.”
Heather allowed herself to be pulled out of the diner as Leslie said something about making ten work. Vivien escorted her down the sidewalk of downtown Freewild Cove at a brisk pace pausing only to avoid being hit by a car as they crossed the street.
“Where are we going?” Heather asked, confused.
Vivien led her to the front of the Warrick Theater, a building Heather had inherited from her grandmother. She stopped at the door and said, “key,” before digging into Heather’s front pocket to retrieve the keyring for herself. She unlocked the theater and stepped aside to let Heather go in first.
The theater was only open on weekends, and so the lights were off, and the concession stand was empty. Except for the ghost of a woman in a 1940s dress standing near the curtain leading to the theater seats, they were alone. Heather ignored the spirit. She had nothing left to give the dead. The one spirit she wanted to see had not come to her.
When the front door closed and they were alone in the dark lobby, Vivien dropped the keys on the floor and wrapped her arms around Heather, pulling her close.
“Did your dumbass actually think I wouldn’t know what you were doing today?” Vivien whispered.
Vivien had been born with psychic gifts. Not many people believed her, but Heather knew it was true. Just as Vivien believed that Heather had inherited the ability to see ghosts from her grandmother, Julia Warrick.
Her friend held her tighter. A tear slipped down Heather’s cheek, and her shoulders gave an involuntary jerk as she tried to hold back a sob.
“You’re not alone,” Vivien said, keeping a firm grip around her. “I’m here, and I’m not leaving you. I won’t let go. Ever.”
Heather’s legs gave out, and she felt herself lowering to the hard lobby floor. Vivien went to the ground with her, not letting go as sorrow racked Heather’s body.
Chapter Two
Old Anderson House, Freewild Cove, North Carolina
Ten Years Later…
“Why won’t you look at me? Like, I know you see me. I hate that. He never looked at me. All these hours spent working out, and he never looked…”
Heather tried to focus on what Martin Edwards was telling her about the property’s old wiring and fire hazards, but it was difficult with an erratic ghost shouting in her ear for attention. The spirit’s words sounded garbled like she was underwater, but even with the distortion, Heather could detect a valley girl inflection in her voice. The ghost’s feathered hair and very distinct style revealed she’d most likely died in the 1980s. Heather couldn’t make out everything the dead woman said, and the spirit’s inclination to turn up the volume didn’t do Heather’s headache any favors.
Usually, if Heather concentrated hard enough, she could block them out, but this woman was persistent. All of the undead Heather had come across lately had been that way. Ever since she found her grandmother’s old ring in a tax receipt box, Heather’s gifts as a medium had gone into overdrive.